Mulatto Rockabilly

Have you seen him?

Mulatto Rockabilly

 

I watched him

He was two tables away

To the left

 

He was tall

He was tan

And had a small, slick pompadour

 

He wore a gray jacket

Which doubled as his blanket

He wished it were an invisible cloak

 

He has not bathed in four

Brushed his teeth in three

Eaten in two

 

A dollar cup of Joe

Rented this table for the day

Where he wrote his pain

 

People told him about Job

From long distance Phone calls

He called Job a fool.

 

My slicked haired friend

Wanted to be Jacob

And wrestle his angels

Face to face

 

I heard him and the Lord

Had a screaming match

In the front seat of his car

It was one sided

 

He had given up tears weeks ago

The sadness didn't stop the pain

He had not give up hope

But it’s becoming just a word.

 

After the coffee shop

He will return to his car

That doubled as his room

 

He used to be someone brother

He used to be someone son

He used to be someone’s teacher

He is now someone’s father

 

He was slightly shamed

Because he could smell himself

Along with the songs sung

By the sirens of suicide

 

He pondered past brighter days

  but they were fuzzy

His mind was cluttered

His faith shaky

 

There remained two dollars

In his pocket

He was debating between

A taco or a burger

 

He felt he was the forgotten

He hung onto past glory

But you can't eat and drink

Achievements.

 

And those cops don’t care

As they tapped their flash lights

On his window

 

I looked over his shoulder

He was reading a book

 The bible

He’s giving the Lord

One more chance…

Author's Note

People we see everyday. Did you see him?

Reviews

This made me think of the movie: "No Country for Old Men" I had some points in your writing where I paused and saw him vividly. It's lovely what I read all beneath here, and how different we interpret. And to answer your question from lately (Sorry, I wasn't so much online myself), but I do like your stuff my dear friend, for it's unique, and thought provoking.

- Elisa

[Nick.B]

Like you've just wrote, we've seen him, we've felt like him, ate like him, walked, talked, someone who does not want to grow up...great poem, love it

[jerrypat]

See him? I used to be him. Walked the mean streets of America for decades and lived to talk about it. Lucky. Been busted. Slammed and jammed. Finally gave up on the Lord and started believing in myself. It worked. Liked you raw poetry . . .

[Tree]

There was a deep sincerity, and an even more profound insight weeved between your words. I enjoyed pondering the depth of this. A good piece, Hammer.

[Brandon S. Whitten]

Yes,I have. Like how you tell his story. Excellent read and write.

[Marie]

Yes I've seen him. I've seen him holding up a sign, and I've seen him playiing a saxaphone, and I've given him money more than once. Maybe God hasn't given up on him...

[roarke]

There, but for the grace of God....

to be able to see and feel, record and re-tell, that's a gift. Witnessing the socially invisible, crossing their paths as part of your own. It's all life.

[SHEEMA HUQ]

a vulnerable adult, a vagrant I presume, this is a subtle and poignent piece, you nicely leave elements of his story for the reader to imagine and fathom out, well done